sanctamater.
“YOU’RE BLEEDING.” WHITE lace was stained with grime; jaunty red WHITE and blue ribbons as dishevelled as the frightened company around them, who all had the misfortune to be stranded during what the Lady Comstock called a most BLASPHEMOUS attack on both God and man. Concern prompted her to act, providing aid for who she assumed was merely an armed citizen: not the cause of this madness that had slowly been poisoning the New Eden for almost two decades. “Let me see, please.”
shit. he’d accidentally gotten a few people hurt. but to him, they were in the crossfire, not his fault that they got hurt. could’ve blown his cover. he felt an open wound on his arm —— the air stinging against the blood that was there. his gun dropped to the ground has held the wound, and upon hearing the woman come to him, he turned away, pressing his hand on the wound. ❛ look, lady. it’s my own wound and my own personal business. don’t make it worse. ❜
